As a child, my dreams revolved around being a mother—whether I envisioned myself working at a grocery store, teaching, performing on Broadway, or even practicing medicine. In my daydreams, motherhood was always a part of my future, sometimes accompanied by a husband, other times just a bustling home with children.
As I transitioned into adulthood, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that life often exceeded my expectations. By the age of 29, I was married, right before the self-imposed deadline of turning 30. The next milestone loomed: starting a family before I turned 35.
However, my body had other plans. I had long struggled with irregular and painful periods. My cycles were erratic—occurring as infrequently as four times a year, and trying to chart them felt like deciphering an ancient calendar. After a year of hopeful anticipation, I found myself in my first fertility appointment, expecting to leave with news of a baby. Instead, I returned with pamphlets and a list of tests.
The initial blood work revealed excellent results, which was promising, but it also indicated that there was no straightforward solution. My husband’s sperm was deemed robust, something he would certainly appreciate seeing in print. With no immediate answers, we proceeded to more invasive tests.
Eventually, we encountered a potential diagnosis: Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS). Over the years, my medical records would reflect ongoing debates about whether this was the true cause of our struggles. My ovaries appeared to fit the profile, but my hormone levels didn’t align with the typical symptoms. I wasn’t overweight, nor did I fit the common physical indicators associated with PCOS.
The idea that nothing was fundamentally wrong with me while everything felt wrong was devastating. Our doctor, a kind and gentle man, guided us through a challenging process. We explored various medications and intrauterine inseminations, but my body often didn’t cooperate. Some months, the eggs were too immature; other times, they were too mature, and my period would arrive before anything could take hold.
Ultimately, we faced the reality that adoption or In Vitro Fertilization (IVF) were our primary options if we wanted to grow our family. One of the most compassionate things our doctor did was refrain from offering false reassurances.
The year was filled with early morning appointments for tests and procedures, along with monthly trips across town where my husband kept his sample warm. The medication side effects were challenging; I felt overwhelmed with emotions, experiencing night sweats and intense mood swings. At one point, we took a break to regroup, which was a blessing in disguise.
During our discussions about the future, we even broached the topic of divorce—not due to a lack of love, but because our visions for family differed. I longed for children and was willing to explore all avenues, including adoption. My husband, however, was unsure if he could love a child not biologically his. He envisioned a future with me, but wasn’t certain about the kids.
We decided to visit an IVF clinic, where we met a new doctor who exuded trust and warmth. Instead of discussing potential issues, he emphasized the financial aspect of IVF and the high success rates. My husband was convinced after hearing that we had a 90% chance of success if we invested in the procedure. However, the thought of being in the 10% who didn’t succeed haunted me.
Our IVF journey began in December 2010, with each appointment becoming a poignant reminder of the odds we faced. As I observed other women in the waiting room, I couldn’t help but analyze their situations, wondering who among us would leave empty-handed. This experience was transforming me; I discovered a fierce determination to become a mother, often feeling disconnected from the outside world.
In the midst of this struggle, I found solace in community forums, even when my frustration with their circumstances bubbled over. The realities of infertility were harsh, and the well-meaning clichés from friends often felt hollow. Instead, acknowledging the pain and unfairness of the situation was far more comforting.
Ultimately, our journey led us to a successful outcome: our son was conceived through IVF. However, doubts lingered; I sometimes questioned the legitimacy of my motherhood given our complex path. Even so, I was grateful for the joy he brought into my life, acknowledging that the journey was not linear, but it had filled my heart in ways I never expected.
If you find yourself navigating the difficult waters of infertility, know that you are not alone. Support and resources, such as IVF Babble and Make a Mom, can provide guidance and community.
Summary
The journey through infertility can be a deeply emotional and transformative experience. This narrative reflects the struggles and challenges faced when motherhood feels out of reach, highlighting the complexities of hope, disappointment, and the pursuit of family. It encourages those on a similar path to seek support and acknowledge their feelings during this difficult journey.